


Making Momma So Proud

by Epiphanyx7



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Age Regression, Crack, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-08-17
Updated: 2009-08-17
Packaged: 2017-11-01 12:26:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/356763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Epiphanyx7/pseuds/Epiphanyx7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The probability of a beam resulting in a reduction of age in addition to comparable memory loss is highly unlikely, Captain." Mini-Spock says seriously.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Making Momma So Proud

**Author's Note:**

> [[Written for Cliché Bingo 2009. Cliché: Age Regression ]] Title from the song "Kids" by MGMT. Total crack.

  


As expected, Spock is an exemplary first officer. He is precise in his accordance with Star Fleet Protocol, to the point of being an irritating little shit about details. On the bright side, this means that Jim gets out of doing a lot of paperwork, as Spock insists on doing it himself -- or, rather, in a fit of pique, Jim yelled "If you don't like the way I write mission reports you can bloody well write them yourself," and Spock had nodded his acquiescence.

It's a comfort to know that for all of Spock's apparent perfection, for all of his attention to detail, for all that he never, ever breaks the rules even a tiny bit without a lot of cajoling and wheedling on Jim's part -- Spock is a dirty little liar.

Jim realizes this gleefully.

He's never seen his first officer turn down dessert, unless there isn't been enough to go around -- and then, Spock is always the first person to offer up his share. However, if offered a piece of chocolate or a bit of fruit, Spock pretty much just accepts it and moves on.

(Jim had even asked once, if he even _liked_ sweets. Spock hadn't looked up from his datapadd when he replied with, "The presence of glucose in high concentrations has been known to increase the production of action potentials in the Neocortex," which was like, Vulcan-speak for _I will freaking cut you if you touch my pudding cup_.)

However, witnessing a four-year-old miniature version of Spock stuffing his face with pink, icing-covered pastries has lead Jim to the inevitable conclusion that Spock is a _dirty rotten liar_. He doesn't eat sweets because they're brain food - no, he _likes_ them. Spock has a _sweet tooth_. If Jim had known that Spock was using his freaky Vulcan logic to hoard candy, he would have respected him a little bit more, but -- No. Spock isn't just a liar, he's a sneaky little bastard, too.

Unfortunately, Spock is also like, four years old. And since he's the only one who knows how to fix the glowing alien beam that has turned most of the Enterprise crewmen into children, that's like, _really_ bad.

"Uh, Bones?" Jim says, turning to the person beside him.

Freckle-faced and bony, Bones looks sulky and awkward and pretty much the same as every other fourteen-year-old-boy that Jim has ever met. "I'll be in my room," He says, turning and stomping away.

Spock continues eating his pastries.

The lines of his face are all softer and rounder. Jim's not sure, but he thinks that Spock is paler, too, his skin hinting at hues of yellow, almost green in the apples of his cheeks. He is also cuddlier - which for Spock means that he isn't cuddly at all, he just manages to stand, sit, and breathe in a steadily decreasing radius of proximity to Jim. That part is kind of weird.

Mini-Spock finishes his pastries, and he looks up at Jim. "If you have no objections, I ought to return to my studies," He says. The high pitch and sweet lilt to his voice are so strongly at odds with everything Jim knows about Spock (admittedly, not a lot) that it sends a shiver of horror down his spine.

"The thing is," Jim says, and then he trails off, uncertain of how much he ought to explain. Mini-Spock is a child. A _Vulcan_ child, though, which is probably different from any kid Jim's ever looked after in his entire life, aside from that one time in the Academy when he'd been hanging out with some programmers and they'd tried to get him to look after their robot AI. But then again, this kid is _Spock_ , who is four years old and more importantly, Jim's first officer.

There's a smear of pink icing on Spock's chin. (If it hadn't been for Mini-Spock's sharply pointed and slightly over-sized ears, Jim thinks he would have long past run screaming for the hills. He's still considering it, but now he thinks that taking mini-Spock with him may also be a viable option.)

"The thing is," Jim tries again. "You can't go back to school, because you're not on Vulcan right now." He's strangely afraid to lie, somehow, it seems like Spock will be able to tell the difference between truth and falsehood as easily now as he can when he's not an over-sized toddler.

Mini-Spock takes this announcement in stride, not showing so much as a flicker of surprise. "My mother packs educational exercises and activities with my clothing when I am traveling," he says. "The ship's computer will also be programmed to provide me with the necessary instruction."

Momentarily speechless, Jim is stunned by Mini-Spock's mention of his mother. Spock never talks about his mother, ever, and then Jim realizes that this Mini-Spock doesn't remember his mother is dead, doesn't remember his planet being destroyed.

He really _is_ four years old.

Jim's stomach feels like a giant heavy lump, as if he's tried to swallow a shuttle pod. "Uh," he says.

The look that Mini-Spock gives him, one eyebrow arched and his lips pursed ever-so-slightly, gives Jim hope that this whole mess may one day be resolved. It's so very Spock, so very Pointy-Eared-Bastard, that it's almost as if the older Spock is in there, too.

Jim's probably wrong, because by now he's used to being wrong where Spock is concerned. On this particular occasion, though, his sanity is tightly linked to the hope that someone will be able to fix this, and Jim will not be Captain of the Ship Crewed By Infants. Someone can solve this problem, so long as that someone isn't Jim.

"So," Jim says, after a long, uncomfortable minute of Mini-Spock's Death Glare. "What's going on is that I'm Captain of this ship, the Federation Starship Enterprise, and you're my half-Vulcan first officer, Spock, and the reason you don't have lessons is because you're a full-grown man and a graduate of Star Fleet Academy, and you were caught in a beam-thing that turned you into a child. Oh, and the ship's doctor is a teenager, so he can't help either." 

It was an extremely concise and accurate summary. Jim was rather proud of himself.

"The probability of a beam resulting in a reduction of age in addition to comparable memory loss is highly unlikely, Captain." Mini-Spock says seriously.

Jim stares. The similarity to the adult Spock is unsettling.

"Hey, you're the one who figured out how it worked." Jim says accusingly, trying his best not to pout. He's not entirely successful. "It's just that you were caught inside of it, before you could reverse it."

Mini-Spock stares at him.

"So," Jim says brightly, "Do you want to play tag?"

"Is there a security feed or video footage of the beam?" Mini-Spock asks. He's got a datapadd now, which apparently is just one of the many things Spock carries with him at all times. "Did it have a distinctive colour or shape?"

He is carefully entering notes on the padd while asking the questions, pushing buttons with his tiny, stubby, chubby little fingers. Terrifyingly, his brow wrinkles in concentration and his tongue peeks out at the corner of his mouth. It's frighteningly adorable, Jim almost wants to hide.

Rummaging through his pockets, he comes up with a few pieces of string, three tokens for the holo-deck on Chimera Four, and a candy bar.  "Want some chocolate?" Jim says in desperation, wanting Mini-Spock to stop being freaky and act like a kid for a minute.

Spock looks up with his Baby Vulcan Death Stare affixed firmly on his face. It's as close to a scowl as anything ever is for Spock, and yet his features are still perfectly schooled in Vulcan calm. It's upsetting to think about how early he had to have learned to keep his emotions in check. His lower lip protrudes as he considers the situation. Finally, he reaches a hand out to Jim, palm upward. "Foods containing glucose are known to increase electrical activity in the brain," He says.

Jim hands him the chocolate.

It takes maybe a minute for Spock to chew his way through the candy bar; the time is well-spent as Jim tries to compile his knowledge of everything Spock had said before he was caught up in the beam. It seems woefully inadequate.

Now finished chewing, Mini-Spock turns back to his datapadd. "The recordings here are insufficient," He says in his sweet, girlish voice. "I will require more information. Was the beam genetically manipulating its subjects?"

Jim is staring at the chocolate smeared around Spock's mouth, the pink streak on his chin. Mini-Spock has got to be four years old -- aren't kids supposed to be able to have fun?

"Approximately how long did the transformation take to occur?" Mini-Spock asks, sitting down next to Jim. He's not leaning against him, just sitting so close that the fabric from their sleeves touch, and Jim can feel the warmth of Mini-Spock's skin radiating from him. 

"Uh," Jim says, but when he shifts away, Spock shuffles closer. "I dunno? It wasn't very long, maybe ten minutes?"

"Was it mentioned whether the beam was resulting in a physical or temporal distortion?"

-

**Author's Note:**

> It's been mentioned to me that chocolate has been known to get Vulcans drunk and/or high: if I ever write more of this, Jim will have to deal with the repercussions of having given chocolate to a small Vulcan child.


End file.
